A Case-Free Christmas
by V. Emily
Summary: "'The point is that, um, well...if two people are caught under it together, they have to kiss.' He regains his famous bravado enough to convince her that he is not as nervous as anyone would be in this situation." A humorous/friendly/romantic Christmas one-shot. It includes all members of the team, but is decidedly Tiva-oriented.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! I'm V., and you may know me or you may not. I'm almost exclusively over on the _NCIS: LA_ side of the spectrum, so I've never ventured over this way. That said, I enjoy both _NCIS_ and _LA_ equally. It's only fair to write a story for this show, too. :) (And to all those who do know me from the **_**LA **_**archive, I'm still writing. A busy schedule has swallowed my writing time in recent weeks, but with all the holidays it looks like I'll finally have my opportunity to get some new stories started. :D) **

**Lately, I'm in the Christmas mood, and since the holiday is fast approaching, I thought I'd write this. Let me know what you thought of it! Like I said, I've never written a fanfic for _NCIS _before, so I really need some feedback. Thanks! -V.**

* * *

It has always been the opinion of Anthony DiNozzo that half the pleasure of Christmas comes from the unique quirks it holds for every person. And for someone who's almost always working a case on December 25th, it holds quite a few *quirks* to say the least. But serial killers and elaborate hit schemes aren't his favorite way to celebrate.

To his surprise, this year, Christmas Eve has rolled around and nothing has cropped up. Nothing at all. So he sits down at his desk the morning of the 24th, pulls out a yellow legal pad and a pen, and puts a header at the top of the page.

"_What I'm Going To Do On My Case-Free Christmas."_

And the list stays empty for the next ten minutes.

He's been tapping his pen loudly on the paper subconsciously, and finally Ziva speaks out.

"Tony, will you give it a nap!"

"Give it a rest," he corrects automatically, and continues with his pen-tapping.

Her interest has officially been piqued. "What is on your mind?"

Tony gives her a quick glance, then looks back at his depressingly empty sheet of paper. "Well, the boss man hasn't come around asking us to gear up yet. Just wondering about what I'm going to do tomorrow." He knits his brows contemplatively and says, "Isn't it kinda sad? Originally, I'd been planning on something like chasing down a murderer or arresting an arms dealer for Christmas."

Ziva looks at him inquisitively between glances at her computer screen. "You do not have any plans for Christmas?"

"No. Do you?"

She laughs and keeps typing. "I am Jewish, Tony. My plans for Christmas are no different than they are for today."

"Right."

He purses his lips and kicks his feet up on the surface of his desk. Tony is beginning to become very frustrated with this stupid list, mocking him with its blankness. Isn't there somebody he can hook up with? There should be somebody he can hook up with.

Finally, he asks with slight irritation, "Well, David? Ideas?"

"I was not aware you were asking for them."

He says, "Psh," and looks over at McGee, who's been oblivious to the entire conversation as he works on his desktop computer.

"And you, McGoo? Plans for tomorrow?"

McGee says with his usual I'm-working-right-now monotone, "You're not asking me to go somewhere with you, are you?"

"Me? Ask you?" Tony laughs. "I'm not desperate. I'm just seeing if you're doing anything I want to copy."

"I'm visiting my sister. We're gonna play Risk - she's got the_ Lord of the Rings_ version."

Tony winces and pretends to cross an invisible line through his paper. "Scratch that option."

A few minutes later, jingle bells can be heard in the bullpen as Abby rushes in, decked out in goth-style Christmas clothes. She wears black and red stockings, a green miniskirt, and a black t-shirt with a Santa skull printed on the front. Her pigtails are topped with a set of flashing antlers. The jingle bells can be attributed to her collar, which looks like something one of the reindeer would wear while pulling the sleigh.

As usual, the forensic scientist is bursting with energy. "Guess what!" she exclaims, clapping her hands. McGee, DiNozzo, and Ziva turn their eyes to her. Tony blinks repeatedly at the glare from her Christmassy outfit.

Nobody but DiNozzo actually makes a guess, unable to tear his eyes from the blinking pair of deer antlers. "You've got a job as a new and improved Rudolf?"

She laughs. "Nope! Well, since you're obviously never going to get it, I'll just tell you - we're having a Christmas party! Here! Tonight! Because none of us have a case to work on!"

"That's great," says McGee with a small smile.

"We will be looking forward to it, Abby," Ziva says with a respectful nod. Tony echoes an agreement.

As Abby leaves the room, she says, "Oh, and guys, bring gifts. We're going to do one of those present exchange things."

Tony's heart sinks. Present exchange? Gifts? But gifts mean shopping, and shopping means malls, and it's Monday, and Monday means December 24th, and December 24th and malls combined means Hell in one of the most literal senses of the word.

And then Tony's eyes fall on his desk drawers, and he feels like the Grinch getting his wonderful, awful idea.

He finds a comics section in the recycling bin (he'd read once that comics make a "fun, creative wrapping paper") and goes to work wrapping one of his old copies of _Get Some Magazine. _

Tony leaves it on the pile of gift exchange presents in Abby's lab. He walks away whistling "All I Want for Christmas" with his hands stuck in his pockets. It's not an Xbox, but it'll do, right?

* * *

The highlights of the Team Gibbs Christmas Eve party include mulled apple cider, hot cocoa, Ducky's Scottish Christmas cookies, Bert the hippo dressed as Santa, McGee stepping on said hippo, and decorating the computer hard-drives as Christmas trees.

Overall, it's a good party, full of grins and Ziva-correcting ("Here We Come A-Assailing" had Tony doubled-over with laughter for minutes). Abby insists that they play Spin the Bottle, and when it's her turn, the bottle points directly at McGee. They all watched with suppressed smiles as she pecks him on the cheek and McGee turns candy-cane red. When it's Tony's turn, he lands on Ducky, but they laugh and decide on a No Way on God's Green Earth Pact.

When it comes to the gift exchange, things get a little more interesting.

Abby's idea of a gift exchange is to play a sort of Hot Potato game. She starts "Santa Clause is Coming to Town" on her stereo, and they start passing presents around the room. When the music stops, they all rip open their gifts (some more eagerly than others - "some" of course referring to DiNozzo).

It is more a humorous event than anything else, with Abby receiving a CD of bagpipe hits from Ducky and Ziva getting a spiky collar from Abby. Tony is more than a little disappointed with his present from McGee - a Star Trek mousepad - and makes certain to tease him about it. In fact, he's still teasing when Gibbs opens his present.

The comic strip wrapping paper tears away and the stoic agent is left staring down at a half-naked bikini model plastered on the cover of _GSM._

For a moment, Gibbs holds the expletive magazine in his hands, expression unchanging. Then he walks over and gave Tony a firm smack upside the head, and loads the magazine into his hands.

"Oh, uh..." Tony's eyes widen as he glances from _GSM _to Gibbs to _GSM _to oh-my-gosh-it's-the-stare-of-death Gibbs. "Sorry, boss. Won't happen again."

"Darn right it won't," he says. "Keep your *hobbies* to yourself, DiNozzo."

That earns a round of laughter and some fodder for teasing that won't be forgotten until at least the end of January.

Ziva stands at DiNozzo's side and chuckles, cuffing Tony's shoulder. "Very nice, Tony," she says, eyes twinkling like Christmas tree lights. Tony kind of likes it when they shine like that, but he makes himself think of something else as soon as he realize where his thoughts have wandered.

McGee and Abby are standing near the edge of the bullpen, talking, when they catch the brief moment between Tony and Ziva. With a shared pair of mischievous grins, Abby plucks a leafy decoration off of McGee's desk.

"Timmy, I have an idea," she declares, and leans in to whisper in his ear. McGee's smile widens and he nods.

* * *

But the climax of the event, in fact, comes at the end of the party. Ducky, Gibbs, and McGee are the first to leave, with Abby reluctantly following soon after. Tony shoves _GSM _back into his desk drawer and closes it with a bang. After a moment of consideration, he throws the Star Trek mousepad in there, too.

Ziva kind of grin-grimaces as she puts the spiky collar into her purse and wraps her wool scarf carefully around her neck. She shares a quick look with her partner before focusing back on the task at hand. She has to admit, it's entertaining when Tony gets chewed out for his juvenile behavior. Nonetheless, she offers a friendly consolation.

"It is okay, Tony," she says. "We were all expecting you to give a gift like that magazine, anyway."

"Really?" says Tony.

"Yes."

"Then why did you let Gibbs head-slap me?"

"Oh, because you deserved it," she says with a laugh.

"You're a caring companion, Ziva David," he says sarcastically, throwing in a DiNozzo smile for good measure.

After a moment, he adds in a more somber voice, "So...you sure you're busy tomorrow?"

"I never said that," she replies. "Why do you ask?"

"Well...I, um, if you want to do anything..."

"Like what? And do not say movies."

Is it the lighting, or are his cheeks a little red? Ziva walks over to him and pats his cheek firmly. "Cute," she says. Tony's thoughts race like cars in the NASCAR derby. Cute. Is it cool to be called cute? Or is that a bad sign?

"_Sign of what?" _he thinks critically. "_Snap out of it, DiNozzo."_

Then, surprising him, Ziva asks, "But what movie did you have in mind?"

"Oh!" Mood considerably lifted, he says, "How about a classic? _White Christmas_? _Miracle on 34th Street_?"

She chuckles again. "All right," she agrees. "I will be there."

"Bring pizza."

"And beer, no?"

"I have plenty; don't worry."

And just like that, it's set - a movie date (_"Not a date, DiNozzo, do not think date under any circumstances...") _for the both of them the next morning.

They are both just leaving the bullpen together when DiNozzo notices a shadow on the ground and looks up. He's not sure how he should react, or how she'll react, or whatever. It's only a half-formed idea in his mind to keep his discovery to himself, when he finds that he's suddenly telling her.

"Uh-oh," he murmurs, and Ziva halts next to him. "Now there's a cruel place to put mistletoe."

Ziva follows his gaze and her forehead wrinkles. "Why would someone hang a plant from the ceiling?"

"It's not just any plant, David," Tony explains. "It's mistletoe. A parasite, I think, but that's not the point. The point is that, um, well...if two people are caught under it together, they have to kiss." He regains his famous bravado enough to convince her that he is _not _as nervous as anyone would be in this situation.

Ziva scowls and punches him in the shoulder, enjoying the yelp that follows. "You are only making up ways to get favors."

"Ever the skeptic, David," says Tony with a chastising shake of his head. "Google it if you're not sure."

Keeping a suspicious watch over him much of the time, Ziva slips back behind her desk and does a quick Internet search. She scans the page that pulls up, the crease between her eyebrows deepening with every line. Finally, she walks back over to him, chin stuck out in her usual defiant way.

"You know, we could just walk away," suggests Tony. "Then again, where would be the fun in that?"

Ziva regards him suspiciously. "This is a rule?"

"More of a tradition."

"You have odd traditions."

"I'm pretty sure it was made up by some guy who wanted an excuse to kiss a girl. 'Hey, that ivy thing there means you have to kiss me.'"

Ziva laughs airly, then looks him directly in the eyes as her smile begins to dwindle. "Is that what you are looking for, as well?"

Tony raises his eyebrows and gives her a shaky grin. "Well, uh, that really depends. Are you going to go all Mossad assassin on me if I do?"

"Were you planning on...doing that?"

"Like I said, it depends."

There is a lapse in conversation as they both make a careful consideration. Tony wonders if this is really happening, if she might actually let him do this, and _wait a minute is he actually considering this...? _This is beginning to sound like one of those chick flicks he tries to avoid.

Ziva, on the other hand, is thinking hard about the after-effects. What could result from this if it happens? Good results, or bad?

And all at once, she's discarding it all to place a hand on his neck. Slowly, almost gently, Tony reciprocates by putting his hand on the back of her head, just below her ponytail. Before they know it, they've become suckers for this stupid mistletoe tradition, and they're engaged in what could be considered their first _real _kiss (that undercover op seven years ago never counted in either of their opinions). Also unlike that op, they're not devouring each other like crazed jaguars.

* * *

_Meanwhile..._

Gibbs swears under his breath as he searches his coat pockets.

"Gibbs," Abby reprimands. "Don't curse on Christmas Eve!"

"Can't find my keys," says Gibbs, turning his pockets inside-out.

"Perhaps they're in the office still?" Ducky guesses.

"Yeah, boss, I think I saw them on your desk earlier." McGee gives a reassuring nod.

Gibbs sighs shallowly and turns to go back inside. Abby calls a last "Merry Christmas!" after him, even though she knows she'll stop by his house the next day with Ducky to force-feed him a Christmas dinner.

Gibbs steps into the familiar elevator and presses the button for the bullpen's floor. Tapping his foot impatiently as he waits, Gibbs takes a sip of the hot chocolate he poured into his styrofoam coffee cup.

The doors make a pinging sound as they slide smoothly open, and Gibbs is taking another gulp of his cocoa when he stops short, one foot inside the elevator and one foot outside. There are two intimately close figures blocking the way into the bullpen. Wait a minute-

Is he seeing what he thinks he's seeing, or has he just had way too much caffeine today?

"Heck," he mutters to himself, discreetly pushing the elevator button for the ground floor. The wisp of a smile he's wearing is as close as Gibbs will get to a full-on grin. "I'll take the bus."

* * *

When the kiss is over, Tony's not worrying about getting killed and Ziva's forgotten about consequences. Instead, she lets her partner keep his hands on her waist, and she doesn't move her own arms from around his neck.

"So," Tony whispers, his candy-cane-and-apple-cider breath landing on the bridge of her nose. "Are we still on for tomorrow?"

She grins. "I will bring the pizza."

Soon, they part ways. As Tony revs up the engine of his car, he hums a Christmas carol and thinks to himself, _"You know something? I really love American traditions."_

* * *

**So what do you think? I was planning for this to be a one-shot, but if you would like me to, I can write an extra chapter about the next day. There will be nothing expletive/steamy in the least. It's a fluff story, not an R-rated movie. XD**

**Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed this. Please do me a favor and let me know what you liked, what you didn't, etc. -V.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Because it was requested, I've written that next-day chapter. :D Thanks for the responses, you guys! Please let me know if this second chapter lived up to your expectations. (And sorry for the bit of a wait on this chapter.) -V.**

* * *

It is seven o'clock Christmas morning when Ziva decides she isn't going to wait a minute longer. She drives around the center of D.C. for the better part of an hour as she searches for an open pizza shop. It is a miracle, really, that she finds one at all.

She drives to Tony's house and knocks on the door with her free hand, with the other under the aromatic pizza box. A light snow has started to fall, and she watches the unique flakes as they make headfirst dives for the ground.

It's almost five minutes and three bouts of insistent doorbell ringing before Tony answers, dressed in boxers and a James Bond t-shirt. His hair isn't combed, and he looks as exhausted as if he's been wrestling bears all morning.

"What're you doing here?" he asks drowsily, then notes her venomous glare. "I mean, it's not like I'm not happy to see you or anything, but it's _seven_. Seven in the morning." His eyes drift to the box. "Hey, pizza. Pizza?"

"Yes," says Ziva slowly. "You asked me to bring it, remember?"

"Right, yeah. But it's _seven_. Seven in the morning."

"This is sounding very familiar."

"Well, this is how articulate I am in the morning," he says, then runs a disbelieving hand through his hair. "_Seven_. Seven in the-"

"Yes, Tony, I heard," says Ziva impatiently. "Should I come back later, then?"

"No," he says hastily. "No, we can, uh...we can have pizza. Sure. Come in."

He shows her in to his living room, which is a little less messy than usual, and takes the pizza box from her. He promptly walks over to the kitchen and attempts to shove it into the refrigerator.

"What are you doing?" she asks, eyebrows knitting uneasily. "Is it not best to eat that _warm_?"

"Poor little Mossad hunting dog," he says sadly, shaking his head as he shuts the fridge door. "Nobody ever introduced you to the wonders of cold pizza."

"But why _cold_?"

"Because you don't eat warm pizza for breakfast. That's unnatural."

"If you say so."

There's a moment of dead air between them before Tony asks the inevitable: "Movie?"

So they sit and watch the black-and-white version of _Miracle on 34th Street _for the next couple of hours, Ziva with her head on Tony's shoulder even though she's not particularly tired. About halfway through, Tony finally gains the confidence to rest his arm on top of hers.

After the movie is finished and the pizza's been eaten, Tony goes through his extensive DVD collection to look for more Christmas flicks. His partner comes up soundlessly behind him and startles him out of his skin when she talks.

"How about we go somewhere else, then?" she purrs.

Tony grins. He likes the sound of this. "And where would that be, Agent David?"

* * *

There is practically nobody at nine o'clock on Christmas morning in central D.C., and it looks like Tony and Ziva will have the ice rink all to themselves.

As they put on the skates they were rented, Tony says, "You know, I didn't take you for a skater, Ziva."

"I do not skate often," she replies with a shrug. "But I have always gone on Christmas Day. It is actually when the rink is the least crowded."

"That's because people don't like to get concussions on Christmas."

"Are you afraid of falling, Tony?" She's much too amused.

"Of course not. I'm more afraid of you cutting off the circulation to my arm when you catch me."

She laughs. "If you go through with this, I promise I will not injure you."

"Much appreciated."

"...Severely."

"Okay, less appreciated."

* * *

He really is a terrible skater, though. And yes, maybe once or twice he _does _just fall so that she can catch him, but there were so many blunders that she probably can't distinguish which were really accidents.

Tony's on a no-falling streak of eight minutes and counting when Ziva begins softly, "So."

She looks solemn, almost melancholy, as she holds his gloved hand a little tighter.

"So," he says back.

"What happens now?"

His mouth twitches into an uneasy smile. "I knew you were going to ask that at some point."

"You do not want to answer."

From the way her fingers stiffen, it seems as if she's going to pull her hand away.

"Ziva...I-"

"Say it. If this is only going to become like your other...flings - then I want to know. Just say it, Tony, please."

"No!" he says a little too loudly. "No, I mean, geez. Of course not. I wouldn't let that happen."

"And how do I know you would not?"

He holds her firmly in place with his shoulders and looks her straight in the eyes. A whispering of snow still sighs down from the clouds, landing in her eyelashes and on his wool coat.

"Because I'm your partner, that's how," he says. "If I wanted to send a message, I'd have let you get shot at _years _ago."

"Is that really how long you have wanted this?"

He only leaves the soft grin on his face and takes her hand back in his.

Ziva looks slightly more hopeful, but then she asks, "What about Gibbs? Will he not somehow find out?"

"Hey, I'd take Gibbs on."

She can't suppress a surprised laugh. "Even though you would lose?"

"Yeah," Tony pushes some hair out of her eyes. "Probably. All right, definitely. Yeah, I'd definitely lose."

He leans down for a repeat of last night's mistletoe, faintly aware that the ice rink manager is probably watching. In mid-kiss, he stumbles on the thin blades of his skates and takes a tumble down.

From the ground, he groans, "Nine minutes and thirty seconds standing. New record."

As Ziva pulls him up, he adds, "Hey, I never asked you a return question. How do _I _know I can trust _you_?"

He says it like he knows the answer, but wants to hear it anyway.

"Because," Ziva responds, pulling him gracefully towards the exit of the rink. "I am your partner. And I I wanted to send a message-"

"-you would've let me get shot years ago."

"No, I would have killed you myself."

"With a paperclip?"

"With a paperclip."

He puts an arm around her shoulder. "I think we're gonna go far."

* * *

**Sorry it's so short...what do you think? -V.**


End file.
